The Silent Opera
by WanderingArtist99
Summary: A tale of love and betrayal all held inside the walls of the grand opera house, Palais Garnier. In the middle of it all, a mute orphaned girl who was taken in by Madame Giry at a young age to be a ballet dancer.
1. Chapter 1

A young orphan, only the age of 6, was begging on the streets in front of the grand opera house Palais Garnier. There were many rich folks that made their way through those doors, the sound of coins jingling in their fancy pockets mocked the girl. She had no voice, or if she did no one had heard it before. Many times the staff of the Palais Garnier had chased her away, saying she was bad for business. It was the few dropped coins that paid for the meals that kept her coming back.

It was late autumn now. The cold was almost unbearable. Shaking madly, she still stayed there. No one knew why she did, she could have easily gone back to the orphanage. _'But then they would be winning.'_ She always thought to herself. There were footsteps, with a rhythmic tapping accompanying them. An almost regal older woman stood above the girl, she tapped her cane against her leg lightly.

"Stand up." Her accent was thick. The girl scrambled to stand, looking up at her through wide doe eyes.

"What is your name?" The mute child just pursed her lips, looking up at her like a beaten puppy. Sighing she bent down and gently grabbed the girls hand.

"I have seen you wandering around here for months now. I assume you have no parents?" She could only shake her head.

"Then I will be taking you into my care. I will train you to be a ballet dancer, if you do not work hard you will end up right back out here. Understand?" She wasn't actually going to throw the skinny thing back into the cold streets, it was just to keep her in line. A small smile played on her dirty face and she nodded her head vigorously.

The woman revealed herself to be Madame Giry, the ballet instructor of the Palais Garnier. The young girl was given a name, Jolina, by the Madame. She took her words to heart and worked very hard from the day she was taken in. Jolina was not the best dancer but she was not the worst. Meg Giry and Christine Daaé, they were the best in her eyes. The three girls became quick friends, even though they were older than her. Jolina could relate to Christine's situation as she was an orphan herself. They grew up together, becoming more like sisters over the years. While Christine and Meg grew in grace an beauty, Jolina did not. She hated her once cute childhood freckles that people always complimented her on, and despised her skinny body. All the other girls were filling out nicely but Jolina resembled a baby horse.

When she was 13 Jolina spent more time away from the others and her dear friends. She hated to admit it but she was jealous. The awkward girl spent more and more of her off time down in the chapel, sitting on her knees and praying for a beautiful body like her friends. One day on her way to the chapel she heard a beautiful voice. Jolina knew it was a stranger because she memorized all the opera singers voices. It was dark and haunting, pulling in her mind. Quietly creeping down the stairs she saw Christine, singing about her angel of music and receiving a response! If only she could sing with them, if only she wasn't so broken. One of her hands traced her neck and she frowned deeply.

Eventually, the young girl grew out of her jealousy, though her time away from the others marked her as awkward and her relationships suffered. Now 16 and isolated more than ever she found herself following Christine just to hear that haunting voice. This became a habit that was difficult to break. On one of days off, she sat in the shadows and waited for Christine, only to see Madame Giry. This was usually around the time everyone ate, evident from the tray the madame was carrying. Curiously he crept after her, wondering if she was going to eat in the chapel. Being invisible was her forte since birth, so it wasn't that difficult to follow without being noticed. When she reached the chapel she pushed the mural of the angel revealing a hidden tunnel.

It took her a moment to register what had just happened before she hesitantly followed. Of course in her shock, Madame Giry had closed the door so no prying eyes, like herself, could find her. It took great effort to push open the door quietly. Like the rats that scurried across the floor, she was equally as agile. Her mentor had gotten quite the head start, leaving Jolina to aimlessly wander the halls. Finally, she emerged into a grand cavern decorated with dusty red drapes and the odd puppet or two. Her mentor was nowhere to be found, though the discarded tray was evidence enough that she had been there. A man sat at an organ, the song he was playing filled with sorrow and agony. Near the end of his ballad, it grew bitter and angry much to her distaste. The loud, dramatic notes made her ears ring a bit though that didn't stop her from getting closer. Just one glimpse at his face to see who he was and then she would leave and pretend that there wasn't a musical genius living under her home.

Ever slowly she approached, her soft steps covered by his song. Eventually, she reached a good distance where she could see the loose hairs from his head and decided this was good enough. Leaning from behind the table she was crouch behind she was disappointed to see a white mask. A white mask. The Phantom. The devious opera ghost behind every plot, the one that was said to be a murderer. The one that preyed on innocent girls! Jolina scrambled away quickly though in her clumsy attempt to flee she kicked the table making the dusty candle holder hit the stone ground with a sharp noise. His song came to an erupt end as he snapped his head in her direction. _'This is how it ends.'_ She thought gravely as she got up and sprinted towards the exit, though he was faster. She was pulled backwards by the tug of her shirt and when her back hit his chest a rope was fastened around her neck tightly. Her fingers barely made it under to save her some space to breathe.

"Who are you? How did you find this place?" It was the voice! The one that had sung to Christine! Though he tightened his hold she couldn't answer him, she desperately tried to wave at him and signalled to her throat. When his grip was becoming too much she dug her heel into his toes, he yelled out and she scrambled away. Right into Madame Giry.

"Jolina!" She gasped and held onto the poor girl as she looked at her old friend.

"Stop Erik! She's mute, she won't say anything!" She protectively held the girl to her chest like a mother bear. The ghost- Erik- eyed her suspiciously.

"How did she find this place?" His tone changed to a more emotionless one, it was more preferable that then the glaring eyes of her mentor.

"You ungrateful child! You stalked me down here and put your nose where it does **not** belong! I should throw you out!" Jolina looked to the ground, a sniffle escaping her. Never had she been so harshly reprimanded by the woman she dared to see as her own mother. Madame Giry took a moment to rub the bridge of her nose before looking back to the shamed girl.

"I won't throw you out. But as punishment, you will not perform in the next ballet, and instead of getting into more trouble _you_ will deliver Erik's food. Understand?" If she could have she would have protested but agreed all the same. She glanced towards the cold eyes of her would be murderer and gulped. She wasn't looking forward to this.

[A/N] I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This is my first story so please don't be afraid to comment critique or suggestions!


	2. Chapter 2

Just as things were picking up around the Opera Populaire, and the final dress rehearsals were being performed on stage the miserable girl known as Jolina sat off to the side watching the dancers. The opera house was being handed over to new owners today, Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre, in between scenes people chattered excitedly about it all. It was a shame to see the old owner retire but there was nothing she could do. The new opera Chalumeau's Hannibal was going to be big, but their primadonna's voice was far from suitable for the main role.

Sometimes Jolina wished she could sing, wondering if her voice would have ever made anyone cry tears of joy. Christine's voice was beautiful and enchanting, thanks to her 'angel of music'. Jolina frowned just thinking about the man. Every night she had to go into the dark cold dungeons and deliver his meals. He never spared her a hello let alone a glance. She considered it his fault that she wasn't allowed to be in the opera. The new owners watched the ballerinas dance across the stage, once the scene ended their Diva threw a huge fit and stormed off the stage. Jolina just let out a sigh and held her face in her hands.

Eventually, the new owners coaxed her back to the stage to sing their main piece 'Think of me'. In the middle of her ungodly performance, a backdrop fell from above onto the singer, causing everyone to scream in fright.

"Buquet! For God's sake, man, what's going on up there?" Lefevre screamed at the stagehand.

"Please, monsieur, don't look at me. As God's my judge I wasn't at my post." People glanced around, whispers of the Phantom of the opera circulating through the crowd. When he mentioned a ghost it only intensified the subject. All the while a glowering Jolina just got red in the face from anger, 'That murdering scum. Her voice is awful but that doesn't give him the right to try and murder her!' Glancing over to Madame Giry it appeared she had a letter in hand. The diva left the stage for good, storming away dramatically.

Madame Giry approached the new owners.

"I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost." They threw up their hands trying to claim we were all obsessed with the idea.

"He welcomes you to his opera house.-" They rudely interrupted her. "His opera house?!"

"And commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use." Her mentor pointed to the box with her cane for emphasis. "And reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?" Firmin exclaimed they were almost as dramatic as their diva. Jolina, tiring of this, stood from her spot and walked away from it all. She caught a glimpse of a black cape flowing behind someone from above and glared at him. He stopped to glance at her with an indifferent expression before disappearing into the many secret passageways.

That night when she brought him his meal the angry girl practically threw down the tray, it rattled loudly causing the fiend to turn towards her with a cold glare. If she could scream and yell she would have, but instead she threw her hands in his direction with an angry face. Pointing towards the ceiling and stomping as she tried to mime the backdrop falling onto their former star.

"Good god girl, just write it down. I'm quickly tiring of your silent play." He shoved a paper and a quill into her arms. Her frown deepened and she looked away with an ashamed blush. She didn't know how to read or write. Jolina spent all of her time learning to dance to please her mentor. He frowned and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You don't know how." Jolina crumpled up the paper and threw it at his head before stomping away. He caught her arm and pulled her back roughly, her courage from earlier vanished as she feared for her death. The phantom just sat her down in a chair and pushed her into the table gently.

"Let me teach you so you can use your words instead of throwing things at me like a child." There would be no kindness in his voice, no pity, nothing. He was cold as ever as he showed her the basics. A few hours of the passionless teaching eventually tired the poor mute girl. She was slumped over on the table wondering if his droning voice would go on and on forever. That gorgeous deep… voice…

Jolina woke with a start, gasping for breath as she looking around. Strangely she was in her own bed in the dorms. The other girls had yet to wake, the sun wasn't even up yet. Squinting in the dark she saw a man standing over Christine. It was the phantom. He gently caressed her cheek like a lover and whispered to her in her sleep. Jolina moved to sit up but her creaky bed protested loudly. He whipped his head in her direction and sighed in relief when he saw it was just her.

"Next time just leave when you get tired. You drooled all over my desk." Her face flushed in embarrassment as she looked away. 'Wait but… How did I end up in my bed? Did I sleepwalk?' Jolina turned to look at the man to see if he had anything else to say but he was already gone. 'Pervert.' She thought spitefully as she looked to Christine. Creeping over to her form she pulled the blanket up to her neck and tucked her into bed like a doting mother. Jolina crawled back into her bed and wrapped herself up in her own scratchy blanket.


End file.
